Updated: Jan 24
The Transcript from the Film Series Fanny Blomme directed by Dominartist.
Dear readers, my body and mind change daily and patriarchy pushes me to the very edge of sanity.
My breasts have begun to grow, fat squidgy spheres that draw attention wherever I go. There are white snail trail marks on my thighs and buttocks because my skin cannot contain the hormonal excesses of becoming a mature humanoid. On the one hand, this inevitability quite makes me hopeful, for maturity would finally bring to an end the imprisonment subjected by my father. But on the other, I am fearful for the betrayal of my flesh to my mind as I have begun to feel ardour between my legs on a regular basis. My vagina has become a gleaming red pulse and it fattens with my squidgy spheres. I am compelled to touch it often and I feel ardour for the males in the vicinity of a similar age. Thankfully there are few for Father keeps me mostly hidden.
Some time ago I returned from school with a bladder filled well in excess of its capabilities. I fair thought it may burst before my journey’s end. I held my nether regions firmly as I approached the front porch in case of leakage. I was reprimanded by Father who has explained to me that 'girls do not touch themselves in these places, it is considered most vulgar'.
I am extremely fearful to be caught in the act of any such touching.
Father has been reading from the Christian book regularly and is obsessed with Jesus and God’s wrath. Although I see the folly in the futility of praising idols, I fear Father is a man obsessed and that if he was to discover that I am pleasured with uncontrollable urges it would result in my demise.
And so I pray after each touching episode for forgiveness. I have started to make promises to their God that I will never touch myself for pleasure again. (Although I promise after the act, for before is beyond possible with the haze of desire so strong.)
Furthermore, if I need to pass a school test or have a larger helping of food, I make a deal with their God about the touching. I cannot know if the deals are helping because the desire fog makes me less objective in my study of the hypotheses.
I have developed at least a talent for music and am marched off to piano lessons with yet another tyrant. Madam Chopin, who I feel sure has appropriated her name, is a crow of woman who seems hell-bent on developing a protege. But she hits my hands with a ruler and the involuntary tears mean I am unable to see the notes on the music score. This vicious circle causes me much grief and as soon as I am able I will stop the torturous tuition sessions.
My anxieties are extreme these days. Madam Chopin has stated that I am to be entered into a competition because I passed a near-perfect piano exam. The thought of exposing myself on stage at the academy is too much for my nerves and I endeavour to perform badly at my next exam in order to avoid it. I have developed such a nervous condition that I become mute in certain instances. The world becomes quite silent and then all I hear is my inability to function which comes in dissonant chords from above like the devil himself. The world at these times is made up of angry humans in the shape of Father and my body and mind are unable to cope.
Today I am told that I have developed an eating disorder. I am permanently starving and have expressed this to my mother who says that I eat too much. My father has told me that I am getting fat as he observes the squidgy spheres on my chest with disapproval. So my parents, this very day, sent me to a psychiatrist. But the visit was not for the appetite malfunction. It was to test my brain for its cleverness so that I can be sent away to a boarding school. Perhaps Father fears my developments. Whatever his reasoning, I am most happy about the prospect of freedom from his tyranny and tried my best to satisfy the psychiatrist. The questions seemed so simple and I truly wondered how any child could possibly fail.
My parents are smug and self-satisfied. Father has spent some effort preparing my mind with books. For some time now the books have been my training and I have developed some language skills in advance of my years. I see that I am beyond the intellect of my peers and my parents but the advancement is simply because I do not belong here. I am far beyond the mindset of human beings. If only I knew how my advancement will manifest, if only I could make sense of their world. Do these things go hand in hand?
I have started to daydream about Father’s death and wonder if the dreams are prophetic. Also, the death thoughts of Madam Chopin have become highly entertaining.
I hear the gong, I have been called to the study.
to be continued © 2020 Tale Teller
Watch the Fanny Blomme films here